


Arithmancy

by Soupy_George



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash, Remus is easily distracted, Romance, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4331769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soupy_George/pseuds/Soupy_George
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus is almost sure he's not imagining things anymore.... almost.</p><p>Another pre-Teenage Kicks one-shot from Remus's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arithmancy

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-TK-verse one-shot inspired by Duchess_Black's request for awkward bed sharing. This probably isn't what you had in mind, but it's awkward, and there're beds…. :)
> 
> Beta'd by the choice as AdVENTitiious.
> 
> Some Arithmancy language stolen from the talented LuminousGloom - who, by the way, has some great stuff if you need a Wolfstar fix.

 

* * *

It was a predictably dank end-of-term afternoon in the Highlands. The Forbidden Forest was partially hidden by low-slung ashen cloud, the windows of the greenhouses were opaque with condensation, and the air was filled with what could only be described as Scotch-mist. By all accounts, a very typical scene to look out on from Gryffindor Tower's windows. However, the situation Remus Lupin found himself in that afternoon was anything but typical.

The vision standing before him in the Seventh Year Dormitory was so perplexing, so absolutely opposite to anything he'd ever seen, he was sure it was an omen that something terrible was about to happen.

Perhaps the sky was going to crack and fall in splintery-sharp pieces all over the Hogwarts grounds, impaling stray students willy-nilly….  _Unlikely,_  he decided. The Scottish sky was far too soggy to do anything as dramatic as  _crack_. More like it would fall in one sodden lump and smother them all.

Remus blinked, focusing his attention on the figure in front of him again, rather than the dreary view beyond the dormitory window. He had thought that maybe he was just imagining things, but Sirius was still there, as solid and present as he had been before Remus began scanning the room for other apocalyptic warning signs. Remus pinched his own leg hard, and then swore when it hurt like hell – not dreaming then either apparently.

"Moony," Sirius repeated, "please?"

This was the thing, the strange, unsettling thing that was causing Remus's distress. He'd been reading, happily enjoying the peace and quiet of the empty dormitory; N.E.W.T.'s were to begin the next day, and he was basking in a well-earned study break. But then, with a dramatically in-character flourish the curtain of his four poster had been flung back by a peaky-looking Sirius. As the heavy drape swung to a halt, blowing a dusty breeze in Remus's face, Sirius had stood there with his Arithmancy textbook under his arm and his bottom lip protruding in a pleading pout.

"I need your help Moony," he'd said, his too-pretty eyes somehow twice their normal size, " _please_ , I'm never going to pass without it."

With his leg still smarting from its dream-test pinching, Remus cleared his throat and tried to think of something other than kissing that affected pout from Sirius's lips. He seemed to be forcing his mind away from such thoughts more and more often recently, but strangely, he was getting worse at it rather than better with practice. He carefully put his novel aside and managed to find his voice.

"I don't know why you switched to Arithmancy in the first place," he said, unable to hide his suspiciousness completely, "should have just stayed in Divination with James and Pete for the easy O."

Sirius fidgeted where he stood. "Yeah well, you always said Arithmancy was interesting," he picked agitatedly at the spine of his textbook, as he continued defensively, "thought I'd give it a try, keep you company."

At this admission Remus's stomach gave a familiar squirm, a pleasant yet pessimistic flip that occurred every time Sirius said or did something that made Remus feel like his own irritating infatuation wasn't completely one-sided.

Sirius dropping Divination to join Remus in Arithmancy at the beginning of their seventh year had been a strange and out of the blue decision. How Sirius had even talked McGonagall into it when he would be a year behind in the _N.E.W.T._ work Remus still didn't know. But somehow he had, and secretly Remus'd looked forward to every single lesson. It was his own private heaven, him and Sirius sitting next to each other, elbows brushing as they worked quietly together. Those four hours a week were Remus's favourite. Even if getting that quiet, focused version of Sirius all to himself only made him all the more besotted, it was worth it.

The Sirius that everyone knew—the loud, proud, flirtatious trickster—was Remus's friend, and a great one, but Remus's inconvenient romantic feelings were tangled up with the pensive Sirius. The one who would lie on his bed, one down from Remus's, staring at the canopy for an hour at a time when he had to figure a problem out. A problem involving something irresponsible in most cases, and illegal more often than Remus would have liked, but his focus and determination were enviable, no matter the incentive.

Arithmancy had always required that same version of Sirius, since he had so much to catch up on. He worked harder in those lessons than Remus had ever seen, to the point where Remus found himself watching dazedly, falling behind in his own work, because he was so bloody smitten with the industrious boy beside him.

"You'll be fine," Remus said, a little surprised that Sirius was so worried, because he usually possessed self-confidence in spades, and in this case it was quite deserving. "You know the formulas by heart better than I do," Remus reminded him honestly.

Sirius's pout grew more pronounced, and Remus half expected him to fall to his knees he looked so desperate. "Please Moony," he begged, "I do know the formulas but I can't apply them the way you manage to. Look." He held out a practice _N.E.W.T.,_  which was covered in Vector's purple marking ink. There was an easily readable A on the top right corner.

"You got an A," Remus said, frowning up at him, "What are you worried about? These practice tests are always harder than the real thing, you'll pass for sure."

"I don't want to  _pass_ , I need an O." He met Remus's eyes beseechingly. "McGonagall only let me in because I bet her I could get an Outstanding."

" _Bet her?"_ Remus repeated in horrified astonishment. "Dear lord, you wagered your way into the class? Against Professor  _McGonagall?"_  Remus didn't know if he should laugh or be appalled. "What did you bet?" he asked, because he couldn't think of anything Sirius had to offer the Head of House.

"Doesn't matter," Sirius said uncomfortably.

"Yeah it does," Remus argued, feeling a bizarre disappointment that McGonagall had allowed something like this. "Professor McGonagall, stern head of Gryffindor house accepted a wager from a student. You must have offered her something magnificent."

"I – look," Sirius faltered, "will you help or not?"

Remus looked at the practice test again, mainly to avoid the genuine uncertainty creeping into Sirius's expression. "Give it here," Remus grumbled, as he snatched the parchment from Sirius's hand. He was unable to say no to Sirius, as usual, because he was a hopeless lovesick fool. Professor Vector had scrawled a note across the bottom of the page.

_Good use of base theory, to achieve a higher mark you need to approach each problem with more flair._

"More  _flair_?" Remus read aloud, nonplussed.

"I know, right!" Sirius burst out, back to his old self now that Remus had caved. He dropped next to Remus on the bed and turned a confounded expression on him. "Has she met me? Both Sluggy and Minnie have hinted that my exam practical in their subjects would benefit from less, 'personalization' as they call it, now I'm being told I don't have enough?" He waved his hands dramatically, and his grey eyes were wide and a little manic. "Remus, flair is all I have."

"It's really not Pads," Remus said, as he patted his knee, "It's not at all. But I do see the irony." He looked back down at the test, letting his hand linger on Sirius's leg; Remus was probably a terrible person for it, but lately he'd taken to touching Sirius whenever he thought he could get away with it. School was nearly done, their time in this safe little bubble was running out. Maybe he'd even wrangle the courage to tell Sirius how he felt before the war sent them off in different directions. Maybe, but probably not.

"Yeah well, ironic or not I need to channel my flair into Arithmancy before next Tuesday or Minnie will have my balls in a vice."

" _That's_  what you bet her?" Remus blurted out, only half joking.

"No!" Sirius laughed. "Nah, the thing I bet her is no longer available to give, so Merlin knows what she'll do to me when I fail and then welsh on the bet too."

"Well, nothing probably," Remus said, because he really didn't think McGonagall was that vindictive, "we won't even be at school when the results come in."

Sirius didn't look appeased. "She made me sign a form," he said churlishly, "some charmed bit of parchment that will probably cause me terrible disfigurement by long-distance curse the moment the results are official."

"Just to get into Arithmancy?" Remus felt his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. Sirius had enough gold to live for the rest of his life, so a good job after Hogwarts wasn't a priority for him, and that was the only reason _N.E.W.T.'_ s mattered. Remus's stomach squirmed yet again at the possibility of Sirius just wanting to spend more time with him… keep him company as he'd said. But he was still shocked. "I can't believe you signed something without knowing what magic it held, for  _Arithmancy_."

"Yeah I know," Sirius murmured, giving him a funny little side-eye, "I'm an idiot."

"Yes, but I've know that for ages," Remus returned, his innards still flipping with hope. "And McGonagall wouldn't do anything too horrible to you."

"Wouldn't she? Seven years of pent up irritation..." Sirius trailed off, and those wide manic eyes were back, obviously remembering all the awful things he'd done during his time at Hogwarts. "I wouldn't be surprised if the curse makes my cock shrivel up into a baby carrot, she hates me that much."

"I suppose you better get an Outstanding then," Remus said ominously, "just in case." Even if Remus never got near enough to Sirius's cock for this dire pronouncement to affect him directly, he was pretty sure that his regular wank fantasies would be layered with a whole new level of guilt if the real Sirius had a painfully shriveled winkle - while the version in Remus's head was rocking a fantasy quality nine inches.

"I suppose," Sirius echoed. "So, flair lessons from Moony?" Then he grinned, the dazzling yet cheeky expression that never failed to make Remus's ribs feel too small. "There's a sentence I never thought I'd say."

"I've plenty of flair thank you," Remus countered at once, all his mushy feelings jumping aside to make room for indignation. Then for some reason his voice decided to drop, coming out in a kind of husky challenge, as he added, "It's just never been required in a situation that involves  _you_." The moment the words left his mouth Remus hastily made a show of examining the test he still held, while he quietly had a heart attack. Shit, he really was reckless today.

Sirius stilled next to him, and Remus could feel his gaze, clearly trying to decipher Remus's bizarre comment. "Well, er, Arithmancy involves me… maybe we could start there?"

A relieved little laugh puffed out of Remus's mouth and he nodded. "Yeah, okay." He held the test out so Sirius could see it too, very glad to have something concrete to focus on to stop his ridiculous mouth running away with him.

"This is what Vector means," he began, pointing to the third problem on the parchment. "See here you're trying to find the most likely outcome of the Magpies vs. the Bats match on Saturday, but instead of just applying the Agrippan table to the team name, I would put the captains' names in the mix too." He paused thinking it through. "Actually I'd do three different charts, Magpies vs. Bats, Montrose vs. Bellycastle and Higgs vs. Kortaz … then you can take an average of the results, to see which team rates the stronger heart number, and I'd probably include an average of character strength numbers as well.…"

"Bloody hell," Sirius objected, "how will I have time to answer more than one question in the exam?" Then he frowned heavily. "And anyway, fuck heart-numbers. The Mags are gonna wipe the pitch with Ballycastle, the Bats have been shit all season."

"Clumsy chasers," Remus agreed, knowing better than to besmirch Sirius's precious Montrose Magpies, "the great flaw in the science of Arithmancy."

"I reckon," Sirius said approvingly.

"I don't know why they insist on using Quidditch questions in these," Remus said, to head off a tangent on the many attributes of the Magpies' beater pair, Sirius was obsessed with them this season. But Remus didn't give a rats' what their strike rate was, even if they were both stupidly fit. "Anyone would think they're trying to turn us all into bookies."

"Ha," Sirius laughed. "And bad ones at that. What about this one then," he asked, moving to the next question on the sheet, "do I have to do a whole new table or just multiply it through the quadrangle?"

Remus, though endeavoring to be a good friend, found his mind drifting as Sirius talked through the problems on the test. Sixteen days they had left. Sixteen days where Sirius could come and plonk himself down on Remus's bed and be worried about something so trivial as number charts. Sixteen days of waking up in this room that had been his home for seven years. Sixteen mornings left to peep out from between his curtains and see Sirius's sleep-sweet face through the gap in his badly drawn hangings.

"Right?" Sirius said, pulling Remus from his contemplation. Remus was surprised to find that Sirius was now lying on his side across the bed next to where Remus sat. He'd found a quill from somewhere and had scribbled out a rough Chaldean table. His constantly untucked uniform shirt was rucked up on one side, exposing a bit of bare hipbone and a section of toned stomach, the collar too was pulled awry, making his sleeve cling to the defined muscle of his shoulder and arm. "Or not," Sirius huffed, when Remus didn't reply, "damn it." He began crossing out the equations frustratedly.

Remus nodded hastily, forcing himself to look at the parchment. "Yeah – yeah, that's heaps better,"

Sirius stopped crossing out his work in relief, and smiled at him. "Thank fuck for that."

Remus actually had to shift away from Sirius on the bed, so worried was he that he was about to pounce on him. He blamed the moon for his ultra-randiness, with a week to go 'til the full he was always a bit antsy. "When in doubt just do twice as many equations as you feel like you need too," Remus said as calmly as he could, "Your work is always correct, you just don't do enough of it. "

"Story of my life." Sirius sighed and let the test drop to the bed beside him. He flopped over onto his back and shuffled around a bit, which only served to pull his shirt more askew, and display more tempting skin to Remus's pervy eyes. "Why is your bed so much comfier than mine?" he asked, still moving about, bouncing the palm of his hand up and down on the mattress.

Remus looked at Sirius's face then, finding it much easier to focus as he was slapped with this reminder of his hopeless situation. Sirius's bed probably sagged uncomfortably because it had been shagged in so many times. But Remus had no right to be disappointed by that, so he lifted a mocking eyebrow at his prone friend. "My bed retains its structural integrity because I do not abuse it," he said, in his best haughty tosser impression, "yours on the other hand has been under severe duress for the last couple of years."

Remus had expected Sirius to laugh at the joke, to be proud of his well-notched bedpost, but he didn't. He grimaced, and bounded his hand up and down a few more times. Then he let his breath out in a slow silent whistle. "True," he muttered to himself, "must be a spell to fix that."

Then, without further ado, he shot to his feet, jostling Remus with the sudden moment. He bent down to pull his wand from his boot, a ridiculous storage place, Remus thought, but Sirius insisted it looked  _cool_. Remus had to admit that from this angle – eye level with his bent over bum – that cool or not, fitted school trousers and Sirius's arse made quite a team.

Sirius spent the rest of the afternoon determinedly charming away the physical evidence of his amorous history. Occasionally returning to Remus's bed where he would either sit, or sprawl or just prod experimentally at the mattress, then go back and compare the results on his own bed.

Despite the reason that Sirius had an extremely worn out mattress in the first place, Remus found himself enjoying watching his obsessive friend. It was like Sirius was trying to erase everything that had happened in that bed. And even if Remus was reading a bit too much into it, that idea made him very happy.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Any guesses on what Sirius offered McGonagall in the bet?  
> Requests are still very welcome for more in the Pre-TK-verse.
> 
> Thanks for reading,
> 
> George xx


End file.
